The Australian Ballet announces its 2020 season and seeks a new artistic director

As David McAllister announced his last full season as artistic director of The Australian Ballet, the company formally launched its search for McAllister’s successor.

McAllister retires in December of next year after 20 years at the helm but will have significant input into the 2021 program. The new director is not expected to start until perhaps April, executive director Libby Christie told me yesterday.

Advertising for the position has begun, with applications to close on October 25. The company, which currently has about 80 dancers and  stages more than 240 performances a year, seeks “an inspirational, internationally recognised person with outstanding artistic and leadership qualities”. Among the many qualities required, the candidate must “be able to demonstrate an affinity for Australian culture”.

It’s undoubtedly no coincidence that TAB’s 2020 marketing images were taken in Broken Hill, in the far west of NSW. Despite the fact that the vast majority of Australians live around the edges of the continent, few things evoke Australia more immediately here and abroad than the red dust of the outback.

TAB 2020 season_Robyn Hendricks_photo credit Georges Antoni4

TAB principal artist Robyn Hendricks. Photo: Georges Antoni

TAB begins its year in Brisbane with Graeme Murphy’s The Happy Prince, based on the Oscar Wilde story. Murphy has adapted the story with designer Kim Carpenter. Christopher Gordon has composed a new score. The Happy Prince was to have premiered this year but Murphy became ill and was unable to complete the ballet in time. The postponement had its upside: McAllister’s first big commission and arguably greatest success was Murphy’s Swan Lake (2012) and The Happy Prince brings the connection full circle. It will also be staged in Melbourne and Sydney.

The year’s other two full-length works are also new, Yuri Possokhov’s Anna Karenina, a co-production with Joffrey Ballet; and Alexei Ratmansky’s reconstruction of Petipa’s Harlequinade, a co-production with American Ballet Theatre. (Ratmansky has given it “the kiss of life”, says McAllister.) Anna Karenina opens in Sydney then goes to Melbourne and Adelaide. Harlequinade will be seen in Melbourne only next year; presumably Sydney and possibly other cities will see it in 2021.

TAB 2020 Repertoire Anna Karenina_Kevin Jackson Robyn Hendricks and Nathan Brook_photo credit Justin Ridler

Kevin Jackson, Robyn Hendricks and Nathan Brook in a promotional image for Anna Karenina. Photo: Justin Ridler

Two mixed bills will be staged in Melbourne and Sydney. Volt features a new work by resident choreographer Alice Topp and two Wayne McGregor revivals, Chroma and Dyad 1929, the latter created for TAB. McAllister breaks the mould – well, his mould – for Molto by programming a heritage work, Ashton’s A Month in the Country (1976), alongside 21st century ballets by resident choreographers Tim Harbour (Squander and Glory) and Stephen Baynes (Molto Vivace).

If McAllister was feeling melancholy about his final season launch he hid it well. Looking relaxed and happy, he said the dancers would have much to learn from a new artistic director, as he did from Ross Stretton when Stretton succeeded Maina Gielgud. “It’s an exciting and positive time for the company.”

Giselle, West Australian Ballet

His Majesty’s Theatre, Perth, September 13 and 14.

Was there ever a man who said his life’s ambition was to dance Hilarion? Probably not. He is the spurned lover in Giselle, a gamekeeper who can’t match the allure of his rival, aristo-in-disguise Albrecht. Hilarion offers dead birds to Giselle’s mother to shore up his position; the experienced Albrecht blows sexy kisses and ingratiates himself with Giselle’s friends.

So yes, Albrecht has all the glamour but who Hilarion is, what he does and what he feels is vitally important to the progress and texture of the drama. The same goes for all other secondary figures. The detail is where a company can make this much-performed, much-loved work sing.

Polly Hilton as Myrtha, Queen of the Wilis with the dancers of West Australian Ballet in Giselle (2019) (2). Photo by Sergey Pevnev

Polly Hilton as Myrtha in West Australian Ballet’s Giselle. Photo: Sergey Pevnev

Aurélien Scannella and Sandy Delasalle’s staging for West Australian Ballet retains the usual scenic framework and much of the traditional choreography attributed to Coralli and Perrot, albeit with a few tweaks, while new touches to character and movement make the ballet WAB’s own. The production, first seen in 2014, looks lovely. Peter Cazalet’s design is appealingly modest in scale and Michael Rippon and Jon Buswell’s lighting a thing of beauty, particularly in the second act, which opens with a shaft of moonlight piercing the gloom of the forest where Giselle is buried.

A late injury to principal dancer Matthew Lehmann made changes to casting necessary, which may have accounted for the feeling that not every idea was expressed as convincingly as it could be. Nevertheless, those ideas were persuasive. It’s made abundantly clear, for instance, that Albrecht is deeply committed to Giselle, strengthening the moment when Giselle and Albrecht’s noble fiancée Bathilde realise they are talking about the same man. Hilarion stands by – Jesse Homes in the first cast judged it perfectly – hoping against hope that Giselle will acknowledge him as her betrothed.

Chihiro Nomura as Giselle and Oscar Valdes as Albrecht in Giselle (2019). Photo by Sergey Pevnev

Chihiro Nomura and Oscar Valdés as Giselle and Albrecht. Photo: Sergey Pevnev

In the first act the men of the ensemble are given more to do, including repeated double tours (tidier at the second performance than the first) and exuberant splits in the air that fit well with a day of harvest festival celebrations and it was good to see the Peasant Pas de Deux couple as an integral part of the community. Candice Adea and Julio Blanes did the honours at the first two performances with charm and ease.

In Act II there are interesting choices for Myrtha, Queen of the Wilis, who is less physically explosive than usual but no less in command with her eloquent balances on pointe. At the second performance Glenda Gardia Gomez was a sterner figure than Polly Hilton on opening night (Hilton had earlier appeared as a gracious, amused Bathilde) but with both there was a sense that Myrtha acts more from necessity than vindictiveness. The Leading Wilis at both performances were entrancing, with Mayume Noguromi and Claire Voss outstanding.

The soft, rounded romantic style – embodied marvellously by the WAB corps – is amplified by the first entrance of the Wilis in a swirling, circular group and at the end they shrink from the morning light in chilling fashion as Giselle greets the dawn with exultation. The restoration of a fugue that’s usually cut is intriguing but slightly problematic, delaying Giselle and Albrecht’s glorious pas de deux.

Alexa Tuzil as Giselle and Juan Carlos Osma as Albrecht in Giselle (2019) (2). Photo by Sergey Pevnev

Juan Carlos Osma and Alexa Tuzil in Giselle. Photo: Sergey Pevnev

In the first cast principal artist Chihiro Nomura was a sunny, delighted Giselle until her happiness was shattered. On Saturday corps member Alexa Tuzil’s peasant girl was a highly promising work in progress in the first act. Her second act was absolutely scorching: passionate, fearless and greatly moving in what was her role debut.

The respective Albrechts, Oscar Valdés and Juan Carlos Osma, are perhaps not the most natural actors but each was serviceable in Act I and wonderful in Act II. Both are Cuban and have a gorgeous combination of impeccable line and exciting power. Osma’s elevation is astonishing. (There is quite a Cuban contingent at WAB right now: soloists Valdés, Osma and Dayana Hardy Acuña; demi-soloist Blanes, who was so charming in the Peasant Pas; and corps members Glenda Garcia Gomez and Ana Gallardo Lobaina.)

In the pit the West Australian Symphony Orchestra was under the baton of Jessica Gethin, a rising conductor making her ballet debut. There were ups and downs on both nights. Gethin directed performances that had many pleasures but included a few issues with wayward horns and endings in which dancer and orchestra were not as one. At times in the second act she opted for tempos that were just the tiniest fraction too glacial.

The one true disappointment, though, was Giselle’s mother (Beth James), whose attitudes and motivations remained opaque when they weren’t confused. Not exactly disappointing but a bit puzzling was the inclusion of labradors in the hunting party, adorable though they may be. At the second performance one of them – I believe it was Treacle (there were three named on the cast sheet) – was situated well downstage and wagged his tail enthusiastically through the entire of the Peasant Pas. Well, it was good.

Ends September 28.

Romeo and Juliet, Queensland Ballet

Queensland Performing Arts Centre, Brisbane, August 28.

When Queensland Ballet staged Kenneth MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet in 2014 the then-small company took a huge risk, although one mitigated by bringing in superstars Carlos Acosta, Tamara Rojo and Steven McRae to partner QB principal artists. The gamble paid off. The season was a record-breaking success and, more importantly, the company looked terrific from top to bottom, right down to the extras and students needed to animate MacMillan’s sprawling canvas and Prokofiev’s richly coloured score.

QB Romeo and Juliet

Joel Woellner, Steven Heathcote, Vito Bernasconi and Queensland Ballet artists in Kenneth MacMillan’s Romeo and Juliet. Photo: David Kelly

This time around there were no visiting luminaries and, on opening night, a risk of a different kind. Playing the doomed young lovers were dancers plucked from the lower end of QB’s ranks, 24-year-old soloist Mia Heathcote and company artist Patricio Revé, 21. (Both were promoted onstage at the end of the performance.)

Revé, who joined the company only last year, has the marvellous combination of dash and silkiness that seems to be the birthright of male Cuban dancers. Heathcote is a luminous beauty whose dancing has gorgeous breadth and fullness. They looked wonderful together but needed to find a greater sense of rapture and abandon in the ravishing series of pas de deux around which MacMillan built the ballet. Romeo and Juliet have a truly dangerous relationship and it felt too careful.

QB Romeo and Juliet

Mia Heathcote and Patricio Revé in Romeo and Juliet. Photo: David Kelly

The production around them pulsated with life and in the pit the Queensland Symphony Orchestra played a blinder with its music director Alondra de la Parra at the helm. Bravi to the brass in particular. It was piquant casting to have former Australian Ballet principal artist Steven Heathcote – Mia’s father – as Lord Capulet. He’s lost none of his stage presence. Nor has former QB principal Rachael Walsh mislaid hers. She reprised her searing Lady Capulet, shedding any vestige of propriety as she keened over the body of her dead kinsman Tybalt, again given glowering charisma by Vito Bernasconi. Kohei Iwamoto was a charming, slightly underpowered Mercutio and Joel Woellner as good as it’s possible to be in the thankless role of Paris.

Romeo and Juliet (1965) was MacMillan’s first three-act ballet but he seemed to know instinctively how to fill a stage excitingly and make a world. Everywhere you look there are people fighting, dancing, plotting, chatting and flirting. The big set-piece scenes of quarrelling clans in the marketplace and the Capulets’ lavish ball are as good as it gets in narrative ballet. And then there are the smaller moments that underscore the tragedy to come – Juliet playing with her nurse and her doll; Juliet and Romeo coming face to face in the ballroom and time standing still. This is where Heathcote and Revé were most affecting.

Heathcote has been one to watch from her earliest days with QB. She has always thrown herself heart and soul into her dancing and often looked passionate but slightly unruly. In some ways her first Juliet showed something of the reverse: the dancing was splendid but the emotions more reined in. The right balance will surely come as Heathcote takes on other challenging roles in big ballets. She is absolutely a star in the making.

A version of this review first appeared in The Australian on August 30.

Natalia Osipova’s Pure Dance, Sydney

Drama Theatre, Sydney Opera House, August 29.

Natalia Osipova is the most arresting classical dancer of her generation. Others may have an inner fire that burns brightly but she has a furnace. Osipova is incandescent.

For the past six years she has made The Royal Ballet her base and that company’s foundational commitment to story-telling through dance suits her well, whether a ballet has an overt narrative or not. Osipova’s decision to open her self-curated program with the pas de deux from Antony Tudor’s The Leaves are Fading (1975) is inspired, and not only because Tudor, at one time considered revolutionary, is somewhat neglected these days. It is wonderful to be reminded of his psychologically penetrating gifts. In Leaves, a late work to Dvorak, a world of meaning lies beneath the most delicate gestures, looks and quicksilver changes of direction in the upper body.

Natalia Osipova’s Pure Dance

Natalia Osipova and David Hallberg in The Leaves are Fading. Photo: Daniel Boud

Osipova dances this with a favourite partner, the stellar David Hallberg from American Ballet Theatre and The Australian Ballet, but here one can only look at her. She is mesmerising. Osipova has subtitled the evening “with David Hallberg” and danced with him again in the ravishing final offering, a new pas de deux for the two by Alexei Ratmansky to Sibelius’s Valse Triste. Hallberg’s partnering had looked a little effortful in the Tudor but by this point in the evening had found his centre. His smile, which in the Tudor had seemed less genuine than Osipova’s, was now warmer as Osipova threw herself into his arms with infectious abandon.

Hallberg might get his name in the title but Osipova’s other two partners are just as valuable in the contemporary duos that show Osipova in a different light. Iván Pérez’s new Flutter is a whirlwind of fleeting moods, by turns skittish, playful, ecstatic, exquisitely tender and much else. Osipova and Jonathan Goddard, dressed similarly in translucent white trousers and tops, could be twins, so close do they seem as they explore the unknown and unknowable. It’s them against the world, tossed about by Nico Muhly’s intriguing soundscape Mothertongue.

Natalia Osipova’s Pure Dance

Natalia Osipova and Jonathan Goddard in Flutter. Photo: Daniel Boud

They skip and hop in and out of the light, they stagger and regain their balance, she flops and he supports her. More than once Goddard holds Osipova aloft, she with arms outstretched as if she’s a kid pretending to be an aeroplane. Most affectingly, as Osipova huddles on the floor Goddard protectively wraps his arms around her.

In Roy Assaf’s absorbing Six Years Later (2011) a couple negotiates a complicated, darkly intense relationship. Perhaps they have already have parted and may simply be remembering what they had, with its conflicts and joys. As with Flutter, the chemistry Osipova has here with her partner Jason Kittelberger (they are also together in real life) makes it impossible to look away.

The two enter holding hands but are soon jostling and bumping one another, or showing off extravagantly. They have fun and they have an argument. Assaf’s choreography may not break any new ground but Osipova and Kittelberger make it live and breathe.

Natalia Osipova’s Pure Dance

Natalia Osipova and Jason Kittelberger in Six Years Later. Photo: David Boud

Two solos, both new commissions, are the disposable bits. Hallberg has a ho-hum work by Kim Brandstrup on an artist’s internal tumult. In Absentia sees Hallberg lost in thought, listening to Bach and trying this move and that, starting and stopping. Hallberg looks wonderful, of course, but that’s a given.

Yuka Oishi’s brief Ave Maria for Osipova, to Schubert, is overwrought and forgettable. It’s lovely to see the dramatic arch of Osipova’s foot in a pointe shoe but less convincing to experience how trite Oishi makes this beautiful piece of music feel. Happily it’s a very brief piece, although long enough to get me thinking about the signature solos other dancers have used in programs of this kind. Pavlova had her Dying Swan and Sylvie Guillem the blazing Two, choreographed by Russell Maliphant. I doubt Ave Maria will have the same lasting impact.

Productions such as Natalia Osipova’s Pure Dance have awkwardness built into them. Osipova appears in five of the six short pieces so there are substantial pauses during each half of the performance. But if, like me, you would watch Osipova dance the phone book, this is unmissable.

Natalia Osipova’s Pure Dance ends at the Sydney Opera House on August 31.

A version of this review appeared in The Australian on August 29.

Amy Hollingsworth at Expressions Dance Company: warrior for the human condition

Amy Hollingsworth can’t be too specific about the first season she is curating as artistic director of Brisbane-based Expressions Dance Company – details for 2020 will be announced later this year – but she can talk about the philosophy that secured her the job. EDC may have a core of only half a dozen dancers but it’s safe to say she’s not thinking small.

In December of last year Hollingsworth was named successor to long-serving AD Natalie Weir; by January she had her feet under the desk in a large, light-filled office in EDC’s headquarters in the Judith Wright Centre of Contemporary Arts in Fortitude Valley. This year’s program had already been set by Weir so Hollingsworth is shepherding that through as she develops the ideas that will put her own stamp on the organisation.

Amy Hollingsworth - Photo By David Kelly

Expressions Dance Company artistic director Amy Hollingsworth. Photo: David Kelly

 

By definition a contemporary company is “of the now”, says Hollingsworth so change is a given when a new artistic director is appointed. She has said on several occasions that two words central to her thinking are freedom and fire. They are concepts that may appear nebulous but a long conversation with Hollingsworth makes it clear they are shorthand for a wide range of concrete possibilities.

Inside the company she is passionately committed to giving artists a strong voice in the creative process and more autonomy than is usual in many dance ensembles. She values teamwork, risk-taking, imagination and individuality and wants those qualities to animate and invigorate work. She has choreographed herself but will lead EDC as a curatorial director: “I love gathering around me like-minded people with whom I can have robust conversations about the work we’re going to do. I want a home of true collaboration that’s vibrant, welcoming, and dedicated to shaping and nourishing the craft.”

Looking outwards, Hollingsworth says EDC must be reflective of the world in which it lives and to be a visible, active part of it. This means, among other things, having diversity onstage and in the audience and understanding the place of a live performing art in today’s highly digitised environment. It means connecting with as many people as possible – the company needs to be seen not only on conventional stages but on film or in site-specific pieces that can travel anywhere.

In addition, Hollingsworth wants to continue what she calls EDC’s “civic mission” of working with young people and in schools and would like to have a four-year plan for the EDC Youth Ensemble that was created only this year. She talks about interdisciplinary partnerships, engagement with technology and more. Much, much more.

Arts companies, she says, have public voices and should make themselves heard. In her marvellous phrase, they must be “warriors for the human condition”.

The EDC board didn’t have to go far to find Weir’s successor, and to find a spectacularly qualified one. Hollingsworth was working down the road at Queensland Ballet, where she had been ballet mistress and creative associate since 2016 after spending a year with Expressions as rehearsal director. She’d come to Brisbane from Sydney where she’d been a dancer and dance director for old friend Rafael Bonachela at Sydney Dance Company. And before that she had a brilliant international career as a dancer.

The choreographers she’s worked closely with are a who’s who of contemporary dance today: Wayne McGregor, Michael Clark, Javier de Frutos, Jiri Kylian, Hofesh Shechter and Mats Ek among them. She can count Akram Khan as a friend. “I’ve spent my whole dance life standing beside great choreographers,” she says.

Hollingsworth was a sporty child whose ability at swimming could have taken her in that direction. She liked it “an awful lot”. Dance, however, finally won. Hollingsworth loved it enough to work her way through a catastrophic injury suffered early in her professional career when she was with Royal New Zealand Ballet. She used the long rehabilitation time wisely. “I now would not take that experience back,” she says. “It highlighted how important dance was to me.” Hollingsworth learned the value of resilience, determination and perseverance and on her return to dance rose to the rank of principal artist at RNZB. The injury underscored the need for dancers to have a wide range of skills, something she will encourage at EDC. She sets an excellent example. Over the years Hollingsworth has studied science, arts management, Pilates and has her helicopter pilot’s licence.

Hollingsworth joined RNZB straight from The Australian Ballet School. She had always loved the classical story ballets and danced plenty of them but became deeply attracted to original work. An experience with choreographer Douglas Wright in New Zealand planted the seed. “I felt most invigorated when working on a new creation,” she says. A stint as a founding member of Peter Schaufuss Balletten in Denmark in 1997 took her to the northern hemisphere and then to Rambert Dance Company under the direction of Christopher Bruce.

Hollingsworth met Bonachela at Rambert and in their spare time the two would go into a studio “to play … in the studio we set each other off. A monster was born.” Not exactly a monster. Bonachela went on to found Bonachela Dance Company in 2006 and Hollingsworth went with him as a founding member. She became Bonachela’s assistant director and returned to Australia when he took over at SDC in 2009. She retired from performing in 2011 in a solo, Irony of Fate, which Bonachela made for her. She then concentrated on her work as SDC’s dance director until moving to Brisbane.

At QB her work included oversight of the company’s valuable contemporary Bespoke program, established in 2017. She choreographed a piece, Glass Heart, for that first Bespoke but at the time I wrote:

Hollingsworth’s greater achievement was as Bespoke’s prime mover. After finishing a celebrated performing career in both classical and contemporary dance she turned to coaching, direction, staging, education, mentoring and assisting choreographers in the creative process. These are no small talents …

EDC is now the beneficiary. Watch out for that 2020 season launch. Hollingsworth promises it will be a big one.

Spartacus and Jewels, Bolshoi Ballet

QPAC International Series, Brisbane, June 27 and June 29

The Bolshoi’s pairing of Yuri Grigorovich’s Spartacus and George Balanchine’s Jewels could not be more fascinating. They were made only a year apart, in 1968 and 1967 respectively, and come from the hands of men with a common lineage but different destinies. Their shared birthplace tells the story. Grigorovich was born in 1927 in Leningrad, 23 years after Balanchine was born in St Petersburg. Same city, another name. Grigorovich’s career was made and prospered in Soviet Russia. Balanchine left the country in 1924 to rattle around Western Europe and ultimately settle in the US, where he had a profound influence on the direction of classical dance.

If you want to see how things turned out, Spartacus and Jewels couldn’t be better guides.

Igor Tsvirko Spartacus

Igor Tsvirko as Spartacus. Photo: Darren Thomas

Even now, nearly 30 years after the dissolution of the Soviet Union, the Bolshoi clings to the idea of Spartacus as its standard-bearer. The narrative of a decadent ruling class putting its foot on the neck of the people fits snugly into the Soviet drambalet mould and is deeply old-fashioned. It’s not entirely a case of nostalgia, though. The Bolshoi has built its brand around dancing on an heroic scale and Spartacus certainly offers plenty of that.

The beefy crowd-pleaser wears its heart entirely on its sleeve. The slave rebellion led by Spartacus against the vicious, rapacious Imperial Romans is delivered in broad, sweeping strokes and performed the same way, propelled by Aram Khachaturian’s enjoyably bombastic score. Every action is delivered as if in capital letters. Good. Bad. Love. Hate. Leap. Turn. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. (Grigorovich takes an emphatic approach. A series of stag leaps, for instance, is seen executed directly to the audience, from one side of the stage to the other and in diagonals.)

On the evil side of the ledger the spotlight is on military leader Crassus (Alexander Volchkov at the gala opening performance on June 27) and his wily concubine, Aegina (Olga Smirnova). Spartacus (Igor Tsvirko) and his “sweetheart” Phrygia (Margarita Shrayner) represent all that is noble. Swirling around them are soldiers, insurgents and members of Crassus’s household, mostly dancing in unison and operating as a kind of moving wallpaper against which the back-and-forth power struggle between Crassus and Spartacus plays out, with an assist from the resourceful Aegina. Smirnova danced the courtesan with glittering intelligence and hauteur, even in Aegina’s supposedly erotic dance with a pole that somehow distracts wavering rebels so they can be captured. It’s perhaps not the ballet’s finest moment but at least the woman has a bit of self-determination.

Poor Phrygia is just the anguished lover, tossed about by fate and her man, who expresses his love in their great love duet by draping her around his shoulders like a sack of grain and holding her upside down on his back. The gorgeously pliant Shrayner was unshakeable in her commitment to the part, even though required to throw her arms wide in supplication far too often.

Alexander Volchkov

Alexander Volchkov as Crassus. Photo: Darren Thomas

Grigorovich’s choreography is often highly eccentric and twee or simply baffling. Soldiers alternate between goose-steps and capering, for instance, and the bacchanal scene could not be less sexy. It’s fair to say, though, that the ballet has its passionate admirers and its two leading men are given every opportunity to get the house pumping. On opening night Tsvirko was nothing short of sensational, with thrilling pyrotechnics and dynamic stage presence. Volchkov struck the right note as the decadent Crassus, even if it was just one note.

The ballet opens with a display of power by Crassus and his men, full of those endless stag leaps for Crassus and some regrettable prancing for the soldiers. A “monologue” for the captured Spartacus follows, one of nine solos that separate the action scenes. They are designed to give insights into the key characters’ emotional states although one-size-fits-all emoting would be a more accurate term for the generic angst of Grigorovich’s choreography, long on beseeching arms, splayed fingers and clutched bodies.

The wondrous Tsvirko somehow made something touching of his moments of limited introspection and in the bigger moments his attack was bold and precise and his elevation high and pillowy. He seemed to have all the time in the world for sublime double air turns and high-flying back arches during which head and feet were thrown back to meet. His ferocious movement transcended gymnastics, something not always achieved elsewhere.

Pavel Sorokin conducted with a deep understanding of the muscular score. Queensland Symphony Orchestra sounded terrific, especially the hard-working brass section. At the opening of Jewels the QSO was equally impressive in the Fauré, Stravinsky and Tchaikovsky music that so vividly establishes the very different qualities of each section of Balanchine’s abstract triptych.

Ekaterina Krysanova and Artem Ovcharenko

Ekaterina Krysanova and Artem Ovcharenko in Rubies. Photo: Darren Thomas

Jewelsis the last word in glamour, a quality the Bolshoi dancers have in abundance. Expressive physicality is built into the Bolshoi DNA and in the first section, Emeralds, it translated into appealing sensuality and full-hearted immersion in the delectable Fauré – selections from Pélleas et Mélisandeand Shylock. Emeralds glowed.

Rubies was made to Stravinsky’s irresistibly propulsive, restless Capriccio for Piano and Orchestra. There were moments when a little more Broadway-style fizz and snap would have been welcome from the corps. There was more than enough compensation, though, from Ekaterina Krysanova and Artem Ovcharenko in their dramatically large-scaled pas de deux and Ovcharenko’s quiet wit as the men delightfully jogged as if on a run in New York’s Central Park.

Diamonds, to the music of Tchaikovsky (Symphony No.3 in D major, minus the first movement), celebrates Imperial Russian classicism. At the first performance it was also a celebration of a gleaming young talent. Alyona Kovalyova is only 20 but has the sophistication, refinement, self-possession and star quality of a much more experienced artist. The central pas de deux, in which Kovalyova was partnered gracefully by Jacopo Tissi, made time stand still.

Spartacus ends July 7; Jewels ends July 3. Spartacus will be broadcast to regional Queensland centres on July 6.

A version of this review appeared in The Australian on July 1.

Synergy, Queensland Ballet

Judith Wright Centre of Contemporary Arts, Brisbane, June 28

Synergy is a small, unpretentious program that’s partly a place where emerging choreographers can test their capabilities and partly where Queensland Ballet’s Young Artists and members of its Pre-Professional year can get some stage time. Both these things are important aspects of QB’s remit but, at least in this year’s iteration, the focus is unclear.

Synergy 2019 puts new work by three highly experienced dance-makers alongside that of two neophytes and casts dancers from QB’s main company as the featured performers in three of the five works. That doesn’t exactly translate to boundless opportunity for the up-and-comers.

Queeensland Ballet

Camilo Ramos and Neneka Yoshida in Never, Stop Falling in Love. Photo: David Kelly

QB’s chief ballet master Greg Horsman is a man with extensive choreographic credits and his Never, Stop Falling in Love could easily pop up on a mainstage triple bill. It’s certainly more engaging than Trey McIntyre’s new The Shadows Behind Us that premiered recently in QB’s Masters Series. The works have some similarities, being danced to popular music interpreted by intriguing artists: jazz singer Jimmy Scott in the McIntyre; genre-hopping “little orchestra” Pink Martini for Horsman.

In Never, Stop Falling in Love three QB couples dance sultry duos while Young Artists weave in and out, promenading or dancing together as if it were a late summer’s evening on the boardwalk. Horsman’s theme of love – no more, no less – may not be earth-shattering but Never, Stop Falling in Love has plenty of charm and leaves a warm glow as it brings the evening to a close.

Queeensland Ballet

QB Young Artists in Magnetic Fields. Photo: David Kelly

Paul Knobloch’s Magnetic Fields, to the music of the seemingly ubiquitous Ludovico Einaudi, is a strong opener. Knobloch is a former dancer with The Australian Ballet, currently a ballet master with that company and has been making dances for more than a decade. Magnetic Fields is danced wonderfully by the 12 Young Artists who later backed up in Never, Stop Falling in Love but here they are the main game. Wearing close-fitting metallic bodysuits, they attract and repel one another, forming and reforming into ever-shifting huddles and lines. The work is entirely abstract but in several solos there’s a suggestion of the individual standing apart from the group, sometimes tentatively, sometimes forcefully.

Queeensland Ballet

Camilo Ramos and Lina Kim in The Cloud of Unknowing. Photo:David Kelly

The third professional choreographer is former Expressions Dance Company artistic director and former Australian Ballet resident choreographer Natalie Weir. Her pas de deux The Cloud of Unknowing, to music of the same name by Gerard Brophy, is another meditation on love, this time involving conflict. QB dancers Lina Kim and Camilo Ramos gave it their considerable all but it’s a forgettable piece with no compelling reason for being on the program.

Company dancer Lou Spichtig sparked the interest with a short narrative work performed by QB dancers Chiara Gonzalez, D’Arcy Brazier and Liam Geck. Spichtig based Demain dès L’Aube on a Victor Hugo poem she learned as a child so it has a lot of personal meaning for her, even if the work feels a little old-fashioned coming from the hands of such a young woman.

Hugo’s daughter made a marriage of which he didn’t approve, causing a deep rift between father and child. She died by drowning, something Hugo only learned about by reading a newspaper report. Spichtig lays out the story clearly, gracefully and with a good grasp of dramatic tension and structure. Her choice of music by Schnittke, Chopin and others is apt and her work quite unlike any others on the program. Spichtig is definitely worth encouraging.

Queeensland Ballet

Liam Geck, Chiara Gonzalez and D’Arcy Brazier in Demain dès L’Aube. Photo: David Kelly

Interestingly, the work that resonates most strongly happens to be by an emerging choreographer, QB dancer Pol Andrés Thió, and a 14-strong cast entirely drawn from the Pre-Professional Program. Thió describes Always in Flight as being “about how we experience art when we find meaning in it”. That concept isn’t easily discerned in the work, but never mind. It looks terrific and has a distinctive voice.

Always in Flight opens with two women in the most basic, unassertive costume imaginable: flesh-coloured leotards and tights that make the dancers look both innocent and vulnerable. Their interactions are physically simple but emotionally complicated – wary, perhaps, but supportive too as one lifts the other.

One woman seems cast as the outsider as men dressed in black flood the stage and other women join the group, they in loose trousers, their long hair flowing. Later everyone wears a long skirt and the lone woman is persuaded, briefly, to don one too. There is an enigmatic interlude in which we hear only the woman’s harsh breathing as she hunches her shoulders as if in distress, an image returned to at the end.

Queeensland Ballet

QB Pre-Professional Program dancers in Always in Flight. Photo: David Kelly

Thió’s handling of this large group is impressive. He has a good sense of ebb, flow and dynamics and the music by Moses Sumney, Hiatus Kayote and Aram Khachaturian is used effectively – not always the case when such different musicians are put alongside one another.

Synergy is performed without sets but with highly expert contributions from costume designers Noelene Hill and Fiona Holley and lighting  designers Cameron Goerg and Scott Chiverton.

Synergy ends July 6.